OUTLAWS, RENEGADES & REBELS ON THE RUN
by Rebel8954
Summary: "Sandburg, you do not threaten a federal agent in any way. It's not good for interdepartmental relationships." Before anyone could say anything, Simon continued. "Nice job of doing it, by the way." WARNING: Child Molestation Scenario & Attempted Mass Execution of Children. If these are triggers please do not read. Sequel to A Long Way To Go.


The bug planed in Eddy Simmons' house allowed all the police officers to hear every word he spoke. The bug planted on his phone allowed only the federal ATF officers to hear every deal he made to sell meth for automatic weapons. But Jim Ellison was easily able to hear the both sides of the phone conversations thanks to his enhanced hearing and passed along the conversations to his partner as they happened.

"See why I'm in favor of strict gun control?" Blair Sandburg muttered.

Jim barely grunted, his eyes fixed on the house a block away.

"And what is his sister thinking? Bringing her little boy for him to watch? She's gotta know what he's doing," Blair grumbled as he opened a thermos and poured a cup of coffee.

"She and her boyfriend wanted to party themselves, Chief. The kid was in the way."

Blair heard the traces of bitter weariness in Jim's voice. "Want some coffee?" Inwardly sighing, he recapped the thermos when Jim barely shook his head. Sipping the now lukewarm coffee, Blair stared out the windshield into the darkness.

 _'Hey, JoJo! C'mere!'_

Both men glanced at the receiving unit when Simmons barked. They heard the sound of small feet on wooden floors. _'Yes?'  
_  
"Man, he sounds scared," Blair murmured in sympathy.

 _'Let's play a game.'_

 _'I don't wanna play.'_

Blair nearly dropped the almost-empty cup when they heard the sound of a hand striking flesh, then the sound of a small child whimpering.

 _'What did I tell you 'bout tellin' me no? You don't_ _ **never**_ _do that! Remember?'_

 _'Uh-huh.'  
_  
"Son of a bitch," Jim angrily muttered. He reached for the walkie-talkie only to hear Henri Brown's voice.

"Are we gonna sit and just listen to this?" the detective angrily demanded. "That kid's barely three!"

"All units will hold your positions. You will not, repeat, **not** make any moves on that house. We're here for surveillance only." ATF Agent Sean Brooks coldly replied.

"Oh, they have **got** to be kidding!" Blair burst out. He looked at Jim who was drumming his fingers on the truck's steering wheel.

 _'Now come here and make this man feel good.'_

Jim grabbed the walkie-talkie as Blair opened the passenger door. "Brown! Rafe! Take the back!"

"Negative!" Brooks ordered. "You have your orders, Ellison!"

"Fuck your orders," Jim angrily replied as he quickly exited the truck and caught up with his partner.

"What's happening in there?" Blair quickly asked.

Jim began to run. "He's got the boy's pajamas stripped off."

"Dammit!" Blair swore under his breath as he followed his parther. He saw the van with the Federal agents turning the corner. _'This isn't going to be pretty on any level.'_

With a burst of speed, Jim crashed through the flimsy front door. Yelling "Cascade PD", he changed direction to his right where Simmons sat on the couch with his hand between his nephew's naked legs. With a roar, Jim grabbed the little boy and tossed him to Blair.

Blair caught the little boy just as Henri and Rafe burst through the back door. "In here!" he yelled as he pressed the child's head to his chest.

Henri gasped when he saw that Jim had both hands around Simmons' neck and was holding him completely off the floor.

"Jim! C'mon! Don't kill him!" Detective Brian Rafe yelled.

The two detectives attempted to free Simmons.

"What the hell have you done?" Brooks demanded as he and his partner stepped through the shattered front door.

Blair glanced at the federal agents then pitched his voice so that Jim would hear him. "Jim! I need your help over here!"

Jim froze, then blinked. He allowed Simmons to collapse onto the couch and stepped back. He turned to see Blair putting his jacket around the whimpering child.

"What we're doing is preventing that kid from being abused even more," Henri snarled as Rafe cuffed Simmons.

"I'll have your badges for this," Brooks angrily threatened. "This was surveillance only."

"Maybe I'll have **your** badges," Blair quietly spoke. "You were willing to sit out there and let Simmons abuse and maybe even rape this little boy." He glanced towards the couch. "You guys have him under control?" When Rafe nodded, Blair turned towards the stairs. "Jim, I need you with me."

"This isn't over, Sandburg," Brooks growled.

Blair turned to look at him. "You're right about that. I'll be filing a complaint with your supervisor."

Brooks stepped forward, only to be shoved aside by Jim who followed his partner up the stairs.

Rafe watched as Blair sat on the top step with the boy on his lap and comfortingly rocked back and forwards. Jim sat two steps below them alternately watching Blair and Brooks.

"We got Ellison off Simmons 'cause that's the right thing to do," Henri warned. "Don't expect us to make the same choice if you're stupid enough to go up those stairs."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

It was nearly midnight when Simon Banks hung up the phone and wearily rubbed his forehead. He looked at the men in his office and grimaced. "Sandburg, you do not threaten a federal agent in any way. It's not good for interdepartmental relationships." Before anyone could say anything, he continued. "Nice job of doing it, by the way."

"I still intend to file a complaint with his supervisor," Blair replied.

Simon nodded. "Bring it to me, and I'll include it with my own complaint." He leaned back in his chair. "The boy, Jo-Jo, is in the custody of Child Protective Services. His mother showed up at Simmons' house about an hour ago. Half-stoned and half-drunk. She resisted arrest and has been taken into custody."

"What about the kid's father?" Rafe asked.

Simon shrugged. "None listed on the birth certificate. But the boy will get medical help and counseling so maybe, just maybe, your actions tonight will give him a second chance."

"What about Simmons?" Henri questioned.

"Whatever he's charged with, the Feds will want to deal it down in exchange for his help," Jim cynically answered.

"I hope not," Simon sighed. "But it wouldn't surprise me."

Blair frowned and stared down at the floor.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Where's Sandburg? I want to go home."

Rafe glanced up from his report, then looked around. "He was here a minute ago. Maybe he's in the break room?"

Jim grunted as he pulled on his jacket. He saw his partner in the hallway and raised his voice. "Come on, Sandburg! I'm tired!"

"Right with you," Blair quietly answered as he put some papers into a folder. "Just wanna put this on Simon's desk. Meet you in the garage?"

Jim nodded and walked towards the elevator. Within a few seconds, he was descending to the garage.

Blair took the papers out of the folder and quietly walked to Rhonda's desk. One by one, he fed the papers into the shredder.

Rafe silently watched until Blair was finished. "I'm gonna be here for a while. I'll make sure the trash is taken care of."

Blair slowly looked at the other detective.

"Go on. Ellison's waiting, and he didn't look like he had much patience left." Rafe returned his attention to the paperwork on his desk.

"Are you sure, Rafe?" Blair saw the other detective raise his head and nod.

"Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."

Blair hesitated then nodded. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."

Rafe waited until Blair had entered the elevator then got to his feet. He walked to Rhonda's desk and looked into the shredder bin. "Only about three pages," he muttered. Unhooking the bin, he glanced into Simon's darkened office. "I bet he has some extra matches."

Five minutes later, Henri was walking past the men's room when he heard several of the toilets flushing. Curious, he opened the door to see Rafe washing his hands. "Just you in here?"

Rafe smiled and dried his hands. He silently took the shredder bin and led his partner back to the bullpen.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_'There's a story to tell about days of old  
A man and his gun, a street fighter I'm told  
There's one in every town, trying' to make himself a name  
If he's quicker on the draw, comes glory and fame.'_

The sun was barely peeking over the eastern horizon when a stocky blonde-haired man wearing a black leather jacket walked into The Breakfast Cafe. He glanced around for a few moments then quietly took a seat at a table near the front door.

"Be with you in a minute," Christy Osborne called out from the kitchen. "We just opened."

"Take your time," the man courteously replied. He rotated his shoulders a bit, sighing as the muscles relaxed. Then he reached into the left pocket and pulled out a pen and a small notebook. Ripping a blank page from the notebook, he quickly wrote two words on the paper and folded it. He put the paper on the table and set the salt shaker on top of it then returned the pen to his pocket.

"Sorry about the wait," Christy apologized. She walked towards the table, carrying a coffee pot in one and a coffee mug in the other.

"No problem," the man smiled. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a gun. Standing, he quickly aimed the gun at the waitress and fired two shots.

Christy fell backwards, the mug breaking into three pieces while the coffee splattered across the linoleum floor. From the kitchen, he heard a man's voice call Christy's name.

The man put the gun back in his pocket and calmly left the cafe.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Man, it's too early for this," Blair grumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

Jim silently nodded as he parked the truck down the street from The Breakfast Cafe. He blinked twice, then pointed. "Isn't that Micki?"

Blair put his glasses on, then nodded. "I hope she's okay."

Both men quickly exited the truck and walked towards the Cafe where Micki was talking with a uniformed officer.

"Micki, are you okay?" Blair asked as they got closer.

"Blair! Jim!" Micki greeted them with a smile. "No, I am well." She scrutinized their faces. "But neither of you look well."

"It's been a rough month," Jim admitted. "Why are you here?"

"The Cafe is close to Little Russia," Micki explained. "I have an agreement with the owner, Mr. Yates, for him to sell copies of my newspaper. I have started an English translation as well. I bring them to him early in the morning." She indicated a nearby stack of bound newspapers.

"I don't think the Cafe will be open today," Jim guessed. "I'll see you inside, Chief."

"There is no need for Blair to stay with me," Micki assured him. "But let me give you a copy." She impishly grinned. "On the house, as you say?" She reached down and removed one of the newspapers.

"Thanks, Micki." Blair folded the paper and tucked it under his arm.

Micki patted his arm, then smiled at Jim. "My guardian angels need to look after themselves better."

"We'll try, Micki," Jim smiled in promise. "Need any help getting those to your car?"

When Micki competently picked up the stack of newspapers, both detectives grinned. Jim motioned to the uniformed officer who stepped forward to take the newspapers.

Micki waved with a smile and led the officer across the street to her car.

Jim watched her for a moment, then sighed and walked into the Cafe.

"Oh, man," Blair muttered as he saw the dead woman lying in a pool of blood. The medical examiner, Dan Wolfe, knelt next to her.

Jim's jaw clenched once, then he looked around. "Dieter! You called?"

A tall thin detective standing close to Dan nodded and walked forward. He glanced at Blair.

"My partner, Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is Ernst Dieter from Homicide."

"Good to meet you." Blair held out his hand.

Dieter briefly shook it, then looked at Jim. "Sorry to get you out so early. Heard you had a late night reminding the Feds what our job is."

Jim shrugged. "What happened? Robbery?"

Dieter shook his head. "The place had just opened. The waitress and the owner who's also the cook were in the kitchen. They heard the door open. The waitress called out, and a man answered. She went out to take his order." He nodded over his shoulder at the dead body. "Two shots. She was dead before she hit the floor. The owner called out for her. When she didn't answer, he came out, found her, and called 911."

"The shooter was gone?" Jim surmised.

Dieter nodded. "The register hadn't been touched. The owner had just filled it with a couple of hundred dollars. Every penny's still there."

"Who is she?" Blair quietly asked.

"Christy Osborne, aged 26," Deiter replied. "I was just going to get some more info on her from the owner. He was pretty upset when I got here, and the EMTs had to work with him a while."

"Any chance he's the shooter?" Jim asked.

Dieter shrugged. "It's possible. But this is why I had you called in." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a clear evidence bag with a handwritten note inside. "This was on the table over there."

Blair looked at the table which was being dusted for fingerprints. Then he leaned close to Jim to read the note. "For Ellison?" He glanced up at Jim.

"Great. Just great," Jim muttered. He handed the evidence bag back to Dieter.

"I take it you didn't know her," Dieter said as he handed the evidence bag to a forensic technician.

Jim shook his head. "Never saw her or been in here before now."

"And the lady outside?" Dieter asked.

"Micki Kamarev," Jim replied. "She's the owner of a Russian newspaper, The Rumor. She's recently started an English translation. Apparently, she had a deal with the owner to sell some of her newspapers in here."

The Homicide detective nodded without comment. "Let's see what the owner's got to say."

Bill Yates was a middle-aged man with greying brown hair. He was sitting on an aged couch in his office, sipping from a cup of water.

"Mr. Yates, do you feel like answering some more questions?" Dieter began after nodding at the uniformed officer standing guard at the open office door.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry I couldn't continue, but..." Yates' voice quavered. "God, she wasn't much more than a baby herself. Who would do that?"

"That's what we intend to find out," Dieter firmly answered. "What can you tell me about Ms. Osborne?"

"Christy was a good girl, you know? She worked hard. Worked two jobs as a matter of fact. Was planning on maybe taking some online classes." Yates swallowed the rest of the water.

"Where else did she work?" Dieter began taking notes.

"She worked 8pm to 4am at Tooley's Diner. It's a 24 hour place out by the airport," Yates explained. "She'd show up here at 5 and get things ready for when we open at 6. She called this morning to say she'd be late. Her car had a flat tire. She got here just before 6."

"You're only open for breakfast?" Jim asked.

Yates nodded. "Six to eleven. I make a good living from that, and I have the rest of the day to go fishing if I want."

"What about Ms. Osborne's personal life?" Dieter asked.

Yates looked up at them in shock. "Oh my god, Danny! Her little boy! What's gonna happen to him?"

"Where is he?" Blair quickly asked.

"With a sitter." Yates shakily got to his feet and walked to the desk. "I've got her name and number here in case of an emergency."

"We'll send officers there and take care of the notification," Dieter told him.

Yates gratefully nodded. "I don't think I could stand to tell the little guy. He's only four." He flipped through the rolodex and pulled out a car. "Lizzie Crane. She's a neighbor of Christy's."

"Did Ms. Osborne have any other family?" Dieter put the rolodex card in his jacket pocket. "Boyfriend?"

Yates sat down at the desk. "Not that she spoke of. She told me that Danny's father took off before the kid was born. I sort of got the idea she figured it was good riddance, you know? One time I mentioned that I wished I could see my grandsons more often. They live in Arizona. She got this wistful look and told me they were lucky to see me whenever they could." He shrugged. "I figured she didn't have much contact with her folks."

Dieter nodded. "We'll take care of that contact as well. So you have no idea who might have wanted to harm Ms. Osborne?"

"Good God, no!" Yates firmly answered. "Everybody here liked her. She was a sweet girl." His eyes filled with tears. "She was a **good** girl."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Dieter's going to keep us in the loop," Jim said as he drove the truck away from The Breakfast Cafe.

Beside him, Blair opened Micki's newspaper. "It doesn't make sense, Jim. Why leave that message if you didn't know the dead woman?"

Jim wearily shrugged. "I'm sure we'll find out." He glanced at Blair. "So how does Micki's newspaper look in English?"

"As professional as it does in Russian," Blair answered. A minute later, he looked up. "Pull over."

"What?"

"Jim, pull over, okay?"

With an irritated sigh, Jim pulled the truck over to the curb and turned the ignition off. He turned to Blair. "Okay, now what?"

Silently, Blair handed him the newspaper and pointed to one story.

 _'Late yesterday, the Cascade Police Department arrested Edward "Eddy" Simmons, aged 32, on charges of child molestation and child abuse. The arrest occurred at his home at 7126 Haven Street. The child, aged 3, was put into the custody of Child Protective Services and is being treated. Arrested shortly afterward was the child's mother on charges of child endangerment, public intoxication, resisting arrest, and unspecified drug  
offenses. To protect the child's identity, the woman's name is currently being withheld by the editor of this newspaper._

 _Sources have advised this editor that Federal authorities may seek to make a deal with Simmons in return for his testimony relating to their investigation._

 _Because of the seriousness of the child abuse and molestation charges, it is hoped that the authorities will not attempt to reduce or eliminate the charges currently against Mr. Simmons. If those charges are reduced or eliminated, those involved should be held to public scrutiny and questioning._

 _The Rumor will continue to aggressively monitor this story and promises to report the truth.'  
_  
Jim blinked then read the story a second time. "Micki could be in a world of hurt over this."

"She knows that."

Jim folded the newspaper. "You told her?" When Blair didn't answer, Jim repeated, "You told her?"

"You sure you want the answer to that question?" Blair turned to look at his partner.

"I thought we were partners. In this together?"

"What about plausible deniability?" Blair replied.

Jim angrily smacked his hand against the steering wheel. "Don't give me that! How the hell can I protect you if I don't know what's going on?"

Blair took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he quietly apologized. "I should have discussed it with you. But I knew Micki was going to print at any moment. And there was always somebody around. It would have been suspicious if I'd pulled you off for a private conversation just before the story hit the press."

"So we let Micki take the fall when the Feds pressure her?" Jim shook his head.

"Micki said she could take care of that," Blair quietly answered. "I made her promise to tell me everything that happens."

"And then you'll tell me." Jim firmly eyed the younger man.

Blair nodded. "And then **we'll** decide what to do."

Jim nodded and started the truck's engine. He waited for a break in traffic before pulling out. Once they were in traffic, he glanced at Blair. "Good decision, Chief."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Naomi Sandburg closed her eyes and forced back the bitter taste of fear that rose in her throat. Opening her eyes, she felt the hands of small terrified children grabbing her legs, arms, and clothing.

"They're just children! Babies! Why are you doing this?" Sherri Lockhart furiously screamed.

 _'Because there's no one to stop them.'_ Naomi glanced at her friend who was trying to shelter as many children as possible.

The dark haired man commanding the ragtag group of soldiers spat on the ground. "They will grow, Gringa! They will be come traitors and fight against us! Like their families!"

"No deseo morir!" Josefa, barely six, hysterically screamed.

Naomi instinctively picked up the small child and held her comfortingly against her shoulder.

"Formacion! Non Sobrevivientes!"

Naomi glanced at Sherri and forced a smile. "Return to the wheel, Teardrop."

Sherri blinked back angry tears. "I hope you all burn in Hell!" she defiantly screamed.

"Listo!"

Naomi frantically looked at the children clustered around the two women. None were older than seven. None would stand a chance alone in the jungle being hunted by the killers who stood only yards away.

"Punteria!"

 _'Blair...William...forgive...'_

Shots rang out.

Children screamed in terror.

Both women screamed in fright.

Shaking, Naomi opened her eyes. "Teardrop?"

Sherri, shaking almost as badly as Naomi, looked around. "Sunshine?" She grabbed Naomi's arm as she stared past her friend.

Naomi turned to her left to see a group of men and women emerging from the jungle, alert and their weapons ready to fire again. She began trying to calm the frightened children.

Some of the men checked the soldiers on the ground to be sure they were dead. Others began searching the smoking ruins of the orphanage.

One tall slender woman, dressed in camouflage fatigues with her long brown hair braided down her back, slowly walked over to the man who had commanded the dead soldiers. She studied his face for several moments, then spat a word in a language that Naomi didn't understand. Then she turned to the women and children.

"Calm them down, this is a rescue."

Sherri tried to take a deep breath, then coughed several times as she tried to catch her breath.

The woman studied the children. "I'm sorry they had to witness this. We lost their track for about an hour. Once we figured where they were heading, we were able to make up some of the time." She glanced at the destroyed orphanage. "Sister Clara? Sister Francesca?"

"Dead," Sherri muttered. "Shot while praying at the altar."

"All clear, Di." One of the rescuers spoke with a British accent. "But that smoke is going to attract some attention. We need to get them to the road."

"Road?" Naomi glanced at the road the attacking soldiers had used.

"Figuratively speaking for a while." Di's green eyes twinkled. "But there will be a truck to take you to safety."

Naomi exchanged looks with Sherri then nodded. "How far? I'm not sure the children are up to a long hike."

Di studied the women and children critically. "Farther than you'd prefer. But we'll make the journey as easy as possible on them." She turned and studied her men who were removing weapons and ammunition from the dead soldiers. "Rodrigo! Choose some of the men who will be good with the children to help carry them."

An older man with grey hair and beard looked up, then agreeably nodded.

Di raised her voice. "We leave in ten minutes."

"What about the Sisters?" Sherri quietly asked. "We should bury them."

Di hesitated then shook her head. "Your safety and the safety of these children are our priority. The Sisters would understand."

Sherri sighed and nodded.

Naomi shook her head in confusion. "Not that we're not grateful, because we are. But who are you people?"

Di slowly smiled. "We are from many countries and many backgrounds. Some aspire to be saints, and some are definitely sinners. Your group has an admirable mission, and you have courage." The woman's face relaxed, and Naomi could see beauty beneath the dirt and grime on her face. "Perhaps we are your guardian angels."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Three hours later, the group emerged from the jungle to find a truck sitting on a rut-filled trail. Di hesitated, then smiled when a man and woman got out of the truck.

The man was middle-aged with a severe limp. His dark hair fell to his broad shoulders. It was easy to see the kindness in his dark eyes along with the sorrow when he saw the traumatized children.

The woman was probably older than she looked, with only lines at the corner of her mouth and eyes to indicate her age. Her blue eyes seemed to reflect the light as she coolly watched the group approach. "Is anyone hurt?"

"A few scratches," Di replied. "The children are mostly frightened and exhausted."

The older woman smiled as she looked at the children. "As soon as the truck is unloaded, we'll put the children in and get them comfortable." She looked at Naomi and Sherri. "You may call me June."

"I'll call you anything you want if you get us out of here," Sherri grinned.

June chuckled low in her throat. She turned to watch as the men gently set the children on their feet and began to unload the truck. "Di, will you need another load?"

The emerald-eyed warrior slowly shook her head. "I think not. Arrange for a pick up in three days. It should be over by then."

"What should be over?" Naomi automatically asked. Then she shook her head. "No, I probably don't need to know, do I?"

"Most probably not," June cheerfully agreed.

Di's group reprovisioned themselves with food, medical supplies, and ammunition. The empty boxes were reloaded in the truck, and then the children were helped inside.

"There is food, water, and bedding for the children," June advised. "Once we reach the airstrip, you'll be flown back to Taos."

"What about documentation for the children?" Sherri asked. With a slight grin, she added, "Not to mention that our passports will be missing a few official stamps."

"All that will be taken care of," June assured her. She matched Sherri's grin. "I assume you have no problem with creative fiction as far as the authorities are concerned?"

"Not as long as it doesn't come back to bite us in the ass," Sherri bluntly answered.

"It won't," June calmly assured her.

Naomi walked over to where Di was quietly talking with her group. When the woman glanced at her, she held out her hand. "I don't know why you came when you did, but thank you."

Di shook her hand briefly as several of the men in her group bowed their heads in silent acknowledgement. "You'll be safe," Di assured her. Her green eyes flickered to the truck. "Jefe knows more about moving around unnoticed than anyone. And anyone who tries to harm a child in June's presence regrets it for as long as she chooses to let them live."

Naomi nodded. "Thank you again." She turned and walked away. As Jefe helped her into the truck, she heard Di call out, "Now, we hunt!"

It wasn't long before the children were sleeping in the back of the truck, some fitfully and some deeply.

Sherri looked over at Naomi and shook her head. "What are we going to tell the others?" she whispered.

"The truth?" Naomi's eyes twinkled.

Sherri shrugged and closed her eyes. Within a few minutes, she was asleep.

Naomi looked at June who had one child on her lap and was gently patting the back of another child. "What happens now?" she asked as she moved to sit across from the older woman.

"There will be a plane at the airstrip which will take you to Taos," June quietly explained. "During the flight Herm will take care of all the necessary documentation. If any authorities question you about the children, let him answer any questions."

"How?" Naomi questioned. "And what airstrip?"

June smiled. "Herm loves computers and making them do what he wants them to do. The airstrip is one used by smugglers." She glanced down at the child on her lap. "Herm will give you a number to call if something comes up later that you feel threatens the children or your work."

"Who **are** you people? Why are you helping us?" Naomi asked in frustration as she pushed her hair back away from her face.

June's blue eyes traveled from child to child. "Who we are is not important. What we do this. I ask nothing of you except to protect these children. And any others that you can help."

"Do you help others like this?" Naomi quietly asked.

June's blue eyes were troubled. "Not enough as far as I'm concerned." She bitterly smiled. "But then I've been correctly accused of being too narrowly focused on what's important to me." She took a deep breath. "Everything is connected, you see. What affects one person will affect another in a different way." She stared at Naomi. "You have a child, yes? If you died today, would that not affect him?"

"He would be sad and would grieve," Naomi admitted. "But..."

"Would he not seek to find out what happened and who was responsible?" June continued. "Would he not focus on that and not on the work he is doing?"

Naomi stared at June for several minutes. "Is something threatening Blair?"

June looked again at the sleeping children. "Something is threatening **all** the children."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

It was mid-afternoon when Joel Taggart entered the Major Crime bullpen with a satisfied look on his face.

"Hey, Joel, you get Megan off at the airport okay?" Rafe called out.

Joel nodded, his dark eyes smiling. "She got a call from her mother just before boarding. Her father came through the surgery without any complications. The doctors think they got all the cancer, but they're still concerned about his heart."

Henri sympathetically shook his head. "Imagine being taken to the hospital with a heart attack only to find out you've got a lungful of cancer."

Joel glanced up as Jim and Blair entered the bullpen. "How's your day, Jim?"

"Oh just peachy, Joel," Jim sarcastically drawled. "We watched a three year old lose his family last night and a four year old lose his family this morning."

Joel glanced at Blair, who shook his head.

"A woman was gunned down this morning," Blair explained. "She left a four year old son. No father. When her parents were contacted, they couldn't have cared less about him **or** their dead daughter. They didn't want the little boy, and were completely unconcerned about what would happen to him."

Furious, Jim swept a stack of folders off his desk. "Some people should be neutered before they have kids," he viciously growled. When Blair stooped to pick up one of the folders, he snapped, "Leave it, Sandburg! It's my mess! I'll clean it up!"

Blair stood and held up his hands in a silent message of surrender. "I'm going to the break room. You want anything?" When Jim glared at him, Blair nodded. "Okay, that would be a 'no'." He turned on his heel and headed towards the break room.

A few minutes later, Joel walked into the break room. "What's going on, Blair?" he gently asked.

Blair shrugged then rubbed his face. "Last night, we blew a Federal surveillance to keep a three year old from being molested and maybe raped by his uncle. We're waiting for the boom to be lowered on that one although the Captain and I filed a complaint with the Feds about it." He sighed. "Early this morning, we got a call from Homicide. A waitress had been killed and a note left saying _'For Ellison'_. She was the mother of the four year old we were talking about." He turned when the microwave beeped and removed his mug of tea. "That note's bugging him, and so is what happened to those kids. And, of course, we've got Garret Kincaid on the loose again."

Joel slowly nodded. "For what it's worth, the Feds can go pound sand. You guys did the right thing." His eyes narrowed. "As for Kincaid, you guys know he's not going to come after just the two of you."

"I know," Blair nodded. "Jim's just been, I don't know, down and depressed ever since that shootout at the Savings and Loan." He frowned as he blew on the hot liquid. "Maybe he just needs a break."

"And you doubt he's going to get it because of the homicide this morning?" Joel guessed.

Blair nodded, sipping the tea. "I got a feeling..."

The door of the break room was suddenly thrown open. Henri stood in the doorway. "Hairboy, you better come quick before Ellison kills that idiot Fed."

"Brooks? What did **he** do?" Blair put his mug on the counter and quickly walked towards the door.

"He and two other Feds brought in your Russian newspaper friend and some priest," Henri quickly explained. "Opened the Captain's door and **demanded** he get to the Interrogation room with Ellison."

Blair cursed in Quecha for several seconds. He glanced in the bullpen.

Rafe pointed down the adjoining hall. "Interrogation Room 3."

Henri looked at Joel as Blair ran down the hall. "Should we call the EMTs?" he half joked.

Joel pursed his lips then shook his head. "No, we wouldn't want them to have to lie when we drag out the dead bodies."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**"What the hell do you think you're doing?! You have no right to drag these people down here!"**

Blair winced as he heard Jim's roar as he opened the door. He carefully closed it behind him.

Simon gave him a quick look then returned his attention to where Jim was facing off against Sean Brooks and two other Federal agents.

"I'll do whatever is necessary to find out who leaked that story!" Brooks angrily shouted.

Blair saw where Micki Kamarev and Father Sergei Markov sat at the far end of the table. Micki was watching the argument with close attention while Father Sergei's head was bowed.

Blair made his way towards them only to find himself blocked by one of the Federal agents.

"You're out of line, Agent Brooks!" Simon angrily spoke. "We've filed two complaints against you so far, and you're quickly bucking for number three!"

"You don't threaten me, Captain Banks!" Brooks sneered.

"Enough!"

Everyone in the room jumped when Micki slammed her right hand down on the conference table and shouted. She glared at the Federal agents. "You have no right to force me to come here. Much less force Father Sergei to come as well. If you have questions to ask me, then ask them. Otherwise, we are leaving."

"Who told you to run that story about Simmons?" Brooks demanded.

Surprisingly, Micki laughed in his face. "I am a journalist and publisher. No one **forces** me to write anything. What is written in my paper is the truth." She slowly smiled. "Or is there something in my story that is not true, Agent Brooks?"

"You're here to answer questions, Ms. Kamarev. Not ask them," Brooks sneered. "Who gave you the information for that story?"

"As a journalist, I am not required to reveal my sources," Micki quickly replied. "Nor will I reveal them."

"I think I have a good idea." Brooks glared at the Cascade detectives.

"Do you?" Micki coolly replied. "Then you are prepared to question not only members of the police department, but the emergency services, Child Protective Services, people at the hospital, and of course, members of your own department?" When Brooks sputtered, she continued, "Because if you do not, then that could be construed as abuse of authority, could it not? By concentrating on only one group rather than systematically investigating all possible suspects?" She shook her head. "I will not reveal my sources."

"Are you willing to go to jail for that fine principle?" Brooks seethed.

Father Sergei raised his head slightly and glanced at Micki. He spoke rapidly yet softly in Russian. After a moment, Micki chuckled.

"Speak English!" Brooks snapped.

"Father Sergei was amused at your threat," Micki explained. "You see before you a man who endured KGB torture in the Gulag. Do you think the threat of your jails frightens him? Especially since he has no connection with my newspaper. He is a friend who was visiting me when you arrived." She slowly stood and faced the Federal agents. "As for myself, I have also had experience with the KGB. Your threats of incarceration are childish in comparison." She helped Father Sergei get to his feet. "We will now leave.  
If you wish to speak with me again, I will consult an attorney."

"And I know a good one," Blair calmly pointed out.

"You're not an American citizen," Brooks pointed out. "And interfering with a Federal investigation isn't likely to get you that citizenship. You're a foreign national interfering with an ATF investigation. I can bury you deep in the Federal system with the Patriot Act before any attorney could get to court."

"Why you..." Jim felt Simon grab his arm to prevent him from attacking Brooks.

"Then the Church will speak."

Everyone turned in surprise at Father Sergei's cold words. The priest spoke slowly, choosing his words. "The Church will...make public what happens to Mikhaila. The Church will speak to the press...and to all who will listen." Father Sergei finally looked at Brooks. "You will be seen as the evil man you are. Shame! That you...would sacrifice a child...a little child! Shame that...you would ignore what was done to...him. Shame on your very soul!"

"And on those words, Father Sergei...Ms. Kamarev, I'll have officers escort you to wherever you need to go." Simon opened the door. "Agent Brooks, I'll have someone escort you and your men out. I'll be contacting your superior as well as the District Attorney and Federal Attorney concerning your actions this afternoon."

Blair quickly walked back to his desk and wrote something down on a piece of paper. Running back to the elevators, he gave the paper to Micki. "The name and number of a real good attorney," he explained. "Just in case."

Micki smiled, then squeezed Jim's hand. "Thank you both for defending us."

Jim snorted. "You did just fine on your own." He glanced at the priest who was staring down at the floor. "You, too, Father Sergei. Those words came straight from the heart."

Startled, the priest glanced up at Jim, then looked away. "I...do not like threats...or the idea of being hunted."

"I'll see you to your escort," Simon offered as the elevator doors opened.

Micki waved as she entered the elevator. Just before the doors closed, Father Sergei looked up and stared into Jim's eyes.

"Come along, gentlemen, I'll see you out."

Blair turned around to see Joel walking towards the stairs with the ATF agents.

"Why aren't we taking the elevator?" Brooks grumbled.

"Exercise." Joel patted his stomach then glanced at the Federal agents. "I think we all need some, don't you?"

Blair snickered, then realized Jim was still staring at the closed elevator doors. "Jim? What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Startled, Jim shook his head. "Weird. For a moment, I thought Father Sergei was trying to tell me something."

"You want to go by the church later to see him?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head. "He knows where we are if he needs to contact me. Besides, he's still pretty skittish around people. If I'm wrong, I don't want to make him even more uneasy around people than he already is."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Greg Adams glanced up from his biology textbook when he glimpsed a car pulling into the parking lot. A freshman student at Rainier University, he found the night shift at the Stay-Inn Motel a great way to study for the one class he found hard to comprehend.

Closing the book and putting it to one side, he watched as a stocky blonde-haired man got out of the late model Dodge Neon and retrieved a small overnight bag from the back seat then walked across the parking lot.

"Good evening, sir." Greg activated the microphone behind the security glass.

"Hey," the man nodded. "One room."

"Just one night?" Greg slid the registration ship through the slot.

"God, I hope she's calmed down by tomorrow night," the man sighed. "I'd like to sleep in my own bed."

Greg sympathetically winced then turned to get a key card and activate it. "Smoking or non-smoking?"

"Either one," the man shrugged as he filled out the card then slid it back through the slot. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Greg slid the activated key card through the slot. "That'll be $44.95, sir."

The man pulled out some bills from his wallet and slid them through the slot. "Most expensive kiss I ever had," he ruefully admitted.

Greg tried not to smile as he slid the change back through the slot. "You're in room 107, sir. Just around the corner." He pointed towards the left.

The blonde-haired man nodded and walked away. A minute later, he was back, tapping on the security glass. "Hey, the key card won't work."

Greg frowned. He activated a second card and walked towards the entrance. "The old activator had problems and the manager replaced it," he said as he stepped through the door. "I hope..."

The blonde haired man raised his gun and shot Greg twice.

The young student fell to the ground, partially blocking the door. He gasped once, then collapsed in death.

The shooter dropped the unused key card on the dead man's chest and a folded piece of paper on his stomach. Then he calmly walked away.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

' _For Ellison'_ Jim shook his head as he studied the paper encased in an evidence bag. "I didn't know this guy, Adams, either. Did you, Chief?"

Blair shook his head. "He was a freshman at Rainier. He wouldn't have been there when I was teaching."

Both Simon and Jim glanced at Blair who showed no signs of regret or bitterness with the statement.

Ernst Dieter sighed. "Well, the shooter seems intent upon getting your attention, Ellison. And he got incredibly sloppy. He left his fingerprints on the key card."

"Which is deliberately left with the victim," Jim mused.

Dieter checked his notes. "The Neon was reported stolen late yesterday afternoon from the parking lot at the YMCA on Deskins Road."

Blair looked from Jim to Dieter then to Simon. "So he wants us to know who he is? Does that make sense?"

They looked up when the Homicide conference room door opened. Capt. Beth Blackmore held a folder in her hands. The new captain of Homicide had raised more than one eyebrow until the day she had gone into the ring in the PD gym and proven that she could physically outfight most of the men there. Her scores on the firing range had put her in the upper class of marksmen, earning her even more respect in the male-dominated world of police officers.

"Gentlemen," Beth nodded in greeting. "We've got a hit on the prints." She sat across the table from Simon. "You're just gonna love this one." The gun holstered under her shoulder contrasted with her prefectly curled hair and tailored clothing. "Our shooter is one Billy Hickock, aka Kid Hickock."

"You're kidding," Blair snickered.

The other detectives stared at him.

"Okay, you're not kidding," Blair muttered.

"Our Kid Hickock was born and raised in Austin, Texas," Beth continued as she laid several mug shots on the table. "A lengthy juvenile record starting at the age of 13. He did a short term in the Harris County jail for assault that got plea bargained down to a misdemeanor when the victim waffled on the witness stand."

"This mug shot's from Arizona," Simon remarked.

Beth nodded. "Suspicion of auto theft. The witness suddenly developed amnesia before the case went to trial. Without her testimony, there was no case; and he walked."

She raised her head. "Now for the interesting part. It seems our Kid Hickock sees himself as some sort of gunslinger. He goes from city to city, targeting a specific police officer. Usually someone prominent or recently in the public eye. He murders three individuals picked at random. Then he challenges the police officer."

"You're kidding, right?" This time Blair didn't wait for a response. "How is it that he's still loose?"

"Because each of those officers are dead, Detective," Beth answered. "It happened in Dallas, San Antonio, Las Vegas, and Denver."

"Wait a minute. You mean that in each of those cases, the targeted officer did what? A shootout at the OK Corral?" Dieter's voice matched the stunned look on his face.

"Detective Eduardo Sanchez of the San Antonio Robbery Division." Beth put a photo of a young Hispanic man on the table. "He had recently broken a nasty home invasion case. After three people were killed and notes left stating _'For Sanchez'_ , he reportedly got a phone call with a tip about the shooter. When he went to meet the informant, he was shot twice in the chest."

"Detective Sergeant Tina Hamm of the Dallas Special Victims Unit." Beth laid a photo of a smiling middle-aged woman on the table. "She was instrumental in getting their SV department started and was widely quoted in the press regarding abuse of the elderly. Three innocent people were gunned down with notes saying _'For Hamm'_ left on or near the bodies. She was found in a deserted parking lot with two shots to the chest. An investigation revealed she'd received a phone call on her cell just an hour before she was killed. The caller was never traced."

"Detective Linwood Sherman of the Denver Juvenile Division." Beth laid a photo of an older balding man with sparking dark eyes on the table. "He was a member of several local task forces concentrating on juvenile drug and prostitution cases. He was considered an expert witness in the Denver courtrooms. Once again, three victims with notes saying _'For Sherman'_ left on or near them. Sherman's partner says he got a phone call supposedly from one of the kids he'd been working with. The kid didn't trust any other cop but Sherman so he went alone. Sherman was shot twice in the chest. The kid who supposedly called was never located and is presumed dead."

"Detective John Tokito of the Las Vegas Narcotics Unit." Beth laid a photo of a young Asian man on the table. "He had just finished testifying in a high-profile heroin case. Once again, three were three victims and three notes saying _'For Tokito'_. He got a phone call at home. He called for backup on his way, saying that the caller had taken his mother. By the time backup arrived, Tokito was dead from two bullets in the chest. His mother was never found."

"And we're sure Hickock is responsible for all of this?" Simon quietly asked.

Beth nodded, leaning back in her chair. "His fingerprints were found with Sanchez and Hamm's body. They were matched to his juvenile prints from Austin. His fingerprints were then found on the third victim in Denver. They were matched the day Sherman was killed. His fingerprints were also found on the third victim in Las Vegas. They knew who was after Tokito, but it didn't do them any good."

"I need to warn my Dad," Jim decided. "My brother's in Montreal so he should be okay. Sally's in Seattle visiting her sister."

"Let's not take any chances," Simon decided. "Get in touch with them, and I'll contact the Montreal and Seattle authorities. In the meantime, we'll get your father into protective custody."

Jim glanced at Blair who frowned. "Don't even think about it. I'm **not** going into protective custody without you."

"That might not be such a bad idea, Ellison," Deiter advised.

Jim sighed then shook his head. "If that happens, who knows what he'll do? Right now, we have a predictable pattern."

Beth put the photos back in the file. "We're putting out an APB on Hickock. Every department's been notified to contact their snitches." She smiled at Jim. "We plan to turn Cascade upside down to find this jerk."

 _'Hopefully before anybody else gets killed._ ' Jim nodded. "I'll call my family."

Beth, Dieter and Simon stood to leave. Simon squeezed Jim's shoulder then followed the others out of the room.

Jim closed his eyes and leaned his head back on his shoulders.

"This isn't your fault."

Jim grunted. "It's my name Hickock's leaving on those notes. I'm the reason those people were killed. I'm the reason one more person is going to be targeted by this bastard. All just to get my attention." He opened his eyes as he stood. "I don't want to talk about it, Sandburg. I need to make some phone calls."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The private dining rooms at the Cascade Lodge were often used by business and civic officials to hold business meetings while taking advantage of the excellent cuisine offered by the management of the Lodge.

It was a personal favorite of Garnet Raiford, senior assistant to the Mayor of Cascade. So it surprised no one that she held most of her committee luncheon meetings there.

"Thank you for your report, Mr. Ellison. I'll be sure it's included for the Mayor's review." Garnet smiled as she put the folder in her briefcase. "I admit. It's an interesting idea. We have three sister cities, but those are in relation to business and tourism. The concept of linking with sister cities to provide aid to needy children is a novel one."

"Maybe we should be thinking more of our own children."

There was an uneasy silence along the long table.

Garnet hadn't become senior assistant to the Mayor by attrition. She had reached that position by facing potential problems and dragging them into the light of day. "Your point being, Mr. Ventriss?"

Despite himself, Norman Ventriss squirmed when the dozen people at the table stared at him. "I'm just saying that if we want public support for this type of project, we need to consider local projects." He defiantly looked across the table at William Ellison. "There are people who will insist that we take care of our own problems first."

William agreeably nodded. "I guess you missed Section E of the report. There's a percentage of funds to be earmarked for local programs." He smiled at Garnet. "The percentage will no doubt be hotly debated."

Garnet smiled as some of the people at the table openly chuckled. "I have no doubt about **that**." She nodded at Ventriss. "Your opinion is a valid one, Mr. Ventriss. Thank you." She slowly looked at the other committee members. "Gentlemen." She smiled at the lone woman at the table. "Chancellor Edwards." She inwardly laughed when William's blue eyes drifted down the table towards Rainier's Chancellor. "This committee and its  
members have worked hard and at your own expense. We have several proposals to put before the Mayor and, eventually, City Council. On behalf of the Mayor and the City of Cascade, I would like to thank you all for your hard work and dedication."

There was polite applause as Garnet stood, indicating the meeting was over.

William managed to get to the door before Chancellor Edwards. Smiling, he turned to her. "Chancellor Edwards. How are you?"

Katherine Edwards glared up at the man she knew was responsible for the Board of Regents' probe into her administration. "Well, thank you."

"Keeping busy?" William needled.

"More than I should be. Good day, sir."

William's lips twitched as he watched her walk away. _'I'll have to tell Naomi about this. That was a good idea she had to contact the Board of Regents.'_

"So now your heart bleeds for needy children, Ellison?"

William turned to see Norman Ventriss and Henry Nadine standing next to him. "Yours doesn't?"

Nadine smirked. "It might if I had a pretty redhead in my bed helping me to see the error of my ways."

Williams' blue eyes frosted over. "Be very careful, Henry," he quietly warned. "I don't like hearing my friends maligned."

Ventriss stroked his chin. "Reconciling with your sons and attempting to save the children of the world. Tell me, Ellison, have you really had a change of heart or are you just an old man trying to get into heaven?"

William smiled at the reference to an old Bill Cosby joke. "Does it matter?"

Ventriss slowly smiled. "Your proposal is going to be a hard sell," he warned. "As its backer, your ethics and morals are going to be scrutinized."

"As will those who oppose it." William lowered his voice. "If you want to match parenting skills, go ahead. We'll all go down together. But **my** children aren't sitting in prison, now are they? One son is a decorated Army and police officer. The other is a successful upstanding businessman."

Nadine furiously turned and walked away.

"Any legitimate opposition to my proposal should be considered," Ellison calmly continued. "I'm not so much of a fool as to believe that it's a perfect proposal. Of course, it will be modified." His blue eyes narrowed. "But come after me or mine, Ventriss, and what happened to your worthless son will be nothing compared to what I will do to you."

"Gentlemen. Is there a problem?"

Both men turned to see Garnet standing a few feet away.

Ventriss angrily shook his head and walked out of the dining room.

Garnet gave William a long look, then smiled. "Good day, Mr. Ellison."

William nodded his head. "Ms. Raiford." Sighing, he walked out of the dining room behind her.

 _'Remember what the doctor said about your blood pressure.'_ William snorted under his breath as he walked through the Lodge's entrance hall _. 'Remember what Naomi said about taking deep cleansing breaths.'  
_  
He felt the cell phone in his pocket begin to vibrate. Stepping out of the way of people entering and leaving the Lodge, he took out the phone and activated it. "Ellison."

"Dad, where are you?"

"Jimmy? I'm just leaving the Cascade Lodge. Why?"

"Don't! Stay there. Stay where there are a lot of people around you."

William frowned but turned to walk into the Lounge. "I'm going into the Lounge. It's almost full. But why do I need witnesses, son?"

Jim sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I can't explain it all right now, Dad. But you're going into protective custody. Captain Banks is arranging for protection for Sally and Steven. I guess it's a good thing that Naomi is out of the country."

"Protection?" William sat down at the bar and murmured 'Scotch' to the bartender. "But why do I need protection? Are you and Blair in trouble?"

Jim briefly closed his eyes. "We're fine, Dad. But there's a guy who's been killing cops in other cities. He's here now and after me. He got one of the other cops by snatching the guy's mother."

William nodded his thanks to the bartender when a glass was placed in front of him. "Okay, I understand. What do you need me to do?"

Jim was so relieved that he couldn't speak for a few seconds. "You remember Joel Taggart? Captain Taggart?"

William pursed his lips and thought. "Yes," he finally answered.

"I'm sending him over to you with someone to drive your car home," Jim explained. "Joel will take you home so you can pack enough for a week."

"A week! I can't..."

"Hopefully it'll be over before then. But, please, Dad, don't fight me on this."

William frowned. "Alright, Jimmy. I won't." He sipped the Scotch. "Is Blair there? Can I speak with him?"

"Sure." Jim hesitated. "Thanks, Dad." Before his father could answer, Jim held his phone out to Blair. "He wants to talk to you."

"Me?" Blair's eyes widened. "Why does he want to talk to me?" he hissed.

Jim shrugged. "Just talk to the man."

Blair took the receiver. "Hello? Mr. Ellison?"

William smiled. "I'm not with your mother right now, Blair. You can call me William."

"Uh..yeah...William." Blair's eyes flickered to Jim who was staring with irritation at his computer monitor. "What can I do for you?"

"Is Jimmy okay? He sounded very frustrated and…very unlike himself. I know the situation must be upsetting, but it's not like him to let it show."

 _'He's human, for cryin' out loud! He's allowed to be frustrated and 'unlike' himself!'_ Blair sighed and wondered if Naomi knew just how high maintenance members of the Ellison family could be. "As well as can be expected." He saw Jim glance at him. "He'll be better once he knows his family is safe."

"Tell Jimmy that I'll be a good boy." William smiled at the choked cough he heard over the phone. "I'll be waiting for Captain Taggart at the bar. And tell Jimmy I said to be careful. No fool stunts on his part."

 _'Yeah, give me the hard job._ ' Blair smiled. "I'll do that."

William disconnected the call and replaced the cell phone in his pocket. He reached for the glass of Scotch, then frowned. Setting it aside, he motioned to the bartender. "A glass of orange juice, please."

"Is there something wrong with your drink, sir?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. There's nothing wrong," William assured him with a sigh. "It's just going to be one of **those** afternoons."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

When Blair heard William hang up, he replaced the phone receiver in its cradle and grinned. "Your dad said he'll be a good boy, and you're not to do any fool stunts."

Jim snorted. "Well, that covers all the bases, doesn't it?"

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_'What was that saying again? Oh, yeah. I love it when a plan comes together.'_

The dark-eyed man chuckled under his breath. Despite the failures of those he'd helped in various places, his personal plans were proceeding almost better than he'd anticipated.

 _'Too bad I can't keep my fingertips on everything. But then it's a big world. It's just unfortunate that I have to rely on such pitiful excuses of human beings to carry out my orders.'  
_  
The dark-skinned man took a deep breath and washed his hands. "Well, back to the salt mines," he murmured. He studied his reflection carefully in the mirror. _'That little hippie Shaman wanna-be should be getting some terrible news in the next few days. With him in a tail-spin, Ellison will be totally useless. Hopefully, they'll both go chasing off to Central America; and Ellison'll get them both lost for another eighteen months.'_

The man suddenly smiled. "You're not perfect. But you're doing just nicely." Then wiping the smile from his face, he turned and opened the door to rejoin the world.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Now everyone just relax. I'll have all this paperwork taken care of in a jiffy flash, and we'll be on our way. Toodles!"

Naomi smiled at the muttered mimicry from the golden-haired young man lounging in the doorway of the cockpit.

"Herm, you better get a move on. I've got a schedule to keep."

Sherri grunted in sympathy. "Naomi, these kids aren't going to keep quiet much longer. We need to get them to the ranch."

Naomi looked at their pilot who'd been cheerfully introduced to them as Paolo. "Do you think someone should go help Herm?"

Paolo snorted.

June opened her striking blue eyes. "Herm knows you are needed elsewhere, Paolo. There is a lot of bureaucracy to deal with. Unless you think you could do it better than he?"

Paolo took a deep breath. "No," he grudgingly admitted.

June's eyes closed. She settled into the comfortable seat and resumed stroking the back of the child sitting next to her.

A few minutes later, they heard Herm's cheerful voice as he walked through the connector attaching the plane to the terminal.

"Ta-da!" The engaging young man with dark hair and hazel eyes jumped into the plane with a wide smile. He held a clipboard in his left hand.

Most of the children, who had been entertained by the young man during their flight, clapped with glee.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Children of all ages!" He bowed with an exaggerated bow in Paolo's direction. "Welcome to New Mexico! And may I say, it's hot outside. It's a different heat from the jungle, I'll admit, but..."

"How would you know how hot it is outside?" Paulo scowled.

Herm gave him an innocent look. "I needed to make sure that transportation had arrived for the children."

"Jeff brought two vans?" Sherri hopefully asked as she got to her feet.

Herm nodded. "I thought each of you lovely ladies could ride in a van with some of the children." He tapped his chin. "But who do I ride with?"

"Mi!"

"Paseo con mi!"

"No, paseo con mi!"

Herm joyfully laughed at the response as the adults tried to restrain the chidren's enthusiasm.

"Perhaps Herm should ride with the younger children," June quietly suggested. "He'll keep them occupied."

"Yes, please. Get him out of here," Paolo urged.

"It's okay." Herm smilingly waved his hand. "He gets grouchy when he's not flying." He pulled some papers from the clipboard. "By the way, I filed your flight plan and arranged for fuel." He held out the papers in Paolo's direction. "Didn't I do good?"

Sherri took the papers and passed them to Naomi who passed them to June. She glanced at them, then handed them to Paolo who began to study them.

"Paolo?"

"Yeah, you did good, Herm. Thanks." Still studying the papers, he returned to the cockpit.

"Alright, children! Ladies! Follow me!" Like a modern day Pied Piper, Herm led the children from the plane.

"Naomi, we really need better information before we get ourselves in another situation like this," Sherri muttered as she slowly followed the children to the plane's exit.

Naomi nodded and glanced at June who stood behind her, carrying a drowsy child. Then she meaningfully looked at her friend who reluctantly nodded.

"June, would it be possible for you to stay along with Herm?" Naomi invited. "It strikes me that perhaps we can help one another."

June silently handed the child to Naomi. "It's possible," she admitted. She turned and raised her voice. "Paolo, I'm staying here. I'll return wtih Herm when the children are secure. I'll need my bags."

"Bags?" Sherri questioned.

Paolo heard the question as he emerged from the cockpit. He flashed a quick grin. "June doesn't exactly travel light." When the older woman slowly turned to look at him, he flushed. "I'll get them for you."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Naomi gratefully leaned back in the van's seat with a wearied sigh. "Jeff, can I borrow your cell?"

"Sure." Jeff Goodwin adjusted the air conditioning then reached down to a small caddy and handed her a cell phone. "We should be at the ranch in about ninety minutes." He smiled in her direction. "Make whatever calls you need."

Naomi smiled in thanks and quickly pressed buttons. "Sweetie, why aren't you answering your cell? I'm back in Taos and will be at the ranch in just a little while. Call me. I love you."

Frowning, she punched more buttons. "He's not picking up at the loft either," she muttered. When the recorded greeting finished, she repeated her message.

With a sigh, Naomi pressed more buttons. "It's going straight to William's voice mail," she irritably sighed. "William, it's Naomi. I'm back in Taos. I'll be at 505-637-3651 in about ninety minutes. I can't reach Blair and now I can't reach you. Please call me."

Naomi closed the cell phone and worriedly stared out the window. "What's going on back there?"

' _Something is threatening_ _ **all**_ _the children.'_

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"A medicine wheel."

Blair's eyes widened as he studied the rocks inlaid in the dark green forest grass.

"My brother of the wolf clan knows of the medicine wheel?"

Blair turned to see the native American Shaman standing just behind him. "Some," he admitted. Looking upwards, he saw swirling dark red clouds rushing towards them. Streaks of yellow fire snapped between the clouds leaving trails of black smoke. "It's coming fast."

The Shaman joined Blair and looked up as well. "It seeks to erase this place from existence." He pointed at one end of the wheel. "Already it begins."

Blair noticed one stone at the south end of the Wheel was stained red. "What happened?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"The south end of the Wheel guards trust and innocence." The Shaman fixed his dark eyes on the sky. "If the South end of the Wheel is destroyed, then that innocence and trust will be lost forever."

"How do we fix it?" Blair demanded.

An angry howl from the wolf caught their attention. The silver grey animal snarled at the sky, fury in his blue eyes. In contrast, the black panther stretched out at the South end of the Wheel and mournfully whimpered.

"The stone is stained red, not completely red." The Shaman noted with satisfaction. "Innocence can be lost yet regained. Trust can be shattered yet rebuilt."

"So you're saying that all's not lost," Blair guessed. "That there is still hope."

"As long as there is one person left to try, then hope always exists."

Irritated, Blair walked over to the panther. "Get up! There's nothing wrong with you! Why are you giving up?"

The wolf turned and watched the two with curious eyes.

The panther slowly rose and stretched.

"That's better," Blair firmly nodded. He reached out and comfortingly patted the panther's head. "We'll find a way. Now go with the wolf and let 'em know you're still here."

The panther stared up at Blair for several seconds then butted his head against the young man's arm.

The wolf barked then turned and ran towards the boundary of the forest. Jumping into the air, the wolf defiantly howled at the reddened sky.

After a few moments, the panther raced to join the wolf, snarling his own defiance.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Slowly, Jim's eyes opened and he glanced around the loft. He half-smiled when he saw Blair sitting next to the coffee table, his eyes closed in deep mediation. Jim scanned his partner with his senses, then nodded in satisfaction. The Shaman of the Great City was just in deep meditation.

' _Guess the call from Naomi settled him down. Although I think there's a whole lot more to the story than she let on.'_ Smiling more broadly, Jim quietly got up from his chair and walked towards the kitchen. _'I think that's one story I wouldn't mind hearing her tell although it might have to be edited for Junior's ears. Not to mention Dad's ears.'_ Not for the first time, he wondered about the relationship between Blair's mother and his father.

Suddenly stopping at the kitchen island, Jim stiffened and extended his senses. _'Somebody was at the front door.'_ Inwardly snarling at the senses that had betrayed him in allowing someone to approach so close to his vulnerable Shaman, Jim reached for his gun hidden in a drawer in the island.

Once more glancing at his meditating friend, Jim approached the front door. Then he saw something sticking between the door jam and door. Extending his sight, he identified the object as a folded piece of paper. Cautiously, he reached out and pulled it towards him. He extended his hearing but could detect no heartbeat or breathing from the other side of the door.

Walking back to the kitchen, he set the gun on top of the island and opened the paper.

' _Northern Lights Mall. West Parking Lot. 4am. Come alone or someone else dies. Maybe your partner.'_

Jim deeply sighed then looked at his partner to make sure Blair hadn't been disturbed. Absently refolding the paper, he put it into his shirt pocket. He eyed the telephone for a few moments then walked back to the living room and sat down in his chair.

' _If I go alone, Blair's gonna raise hell. And rightly so. And if there's anything left, Simon will finish me off. The other cops went without backup, and they're dead.'_

Jim stared out the balcony windows into the black night.

' _If I go with backup, and he gets away…somebody else dies. And pretty quickly, I'd imagine. So, Ellison, the question is can you take him into custody without getting yourself shot? 'Cause getting shot means going to the hospital which means you're gonna be a sitting target for the Wrath of Sandburg.'_

Jim sat quietly for almost thirty minutes before reluctantly nodding to himself.

' _I can't take the chance on this guy getting away. So no backup. Can I take him down? Hickock knows I'm a cop so it's just a matter of a little one-on-one. I've played dirty before in order to survive.'_

Jim studied Sandburg for another couple of minutes.

' _He's going to be_ _ **so**_ _pissed when he finds out.'_ Jim looked down at his hand and the scar even he could barely see. _'We promised 'friends first' and to talk things out. But you carry such a heavy burden already, Shaman of the Great City. How do I explain this overwhelming sense of futility that's hanging over me? I can't so this burden is mine to carry.'_

Jim sighed, then leaned forward. "Blair," he gently called. "It's time to come back." He used his senses to monitor Blair's progress from deep meditation to groggy awareness.

"Jim? Wha's wrong?"

"Nothing, Sandburg. But I'm kinda tired and want to go to bed," Jim carefully explained. He got to his feet and blew out the candles on the coffee table. "I just don't feel comfortable leaving you down here alone while you're meditating."

"We gotta work on that," Blair muttered as he stretched out his legs. "God, my head hurts."

"Why's that?" Jim asked with concern.

"Aw, I've had a headache all day," Blair admitted. "I probably shouldn't have tried to meditate with it. Now I'm just really sleepy, too."

Jim reached down and pulled Blair to his feet. "Come on, one foot in front of the other. So anything going on in the spirit world that I need to know about?"

"I saw a Medicine Wheel," Blair yawned. "Innocence and trust was streaked with red."

Jim closed his eyes then forced them open. He helped Blair to his small bedroom and began to undress him.

"Had to knock some sense into your panther. Fig'rat'vly speakin'. Told 'em to get his act together."

Jim wryly smiled. "Work me with here, Darwin. Get your shoes and jeans off." As he folded Blair's shirt, he asked, "Did the panther obey?"

Blair threw him a confused look. "Sure he did. Why wouldn't he?"

Jim shook his head with a smile. "Into bed. Close your eyes. Time to go to sleep."

Blair tiredly fell into bed. "Why 'm I so tired?"

"You've had a hard day," Jim explained. "Worried about Naomi."

"Shouldn't take so much outta me to med'tate," Blair mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"You'll figure it out," Jim softly assured him. "Want anything for the headache?"

"Nah."

"Okay, night, Chief."

"Night."

Jim slowly closed the door then turned off the lights in the living room. He quietly walked up the stairs to his bedroom and turned off the bedside lamp. In case anyone was watching, he wanted to give the impression that he had also turned in for the night. Instead, he opened the closet door and got the cleaning kit for his guns. Sitting in the dark on the floor next to his bed, Jim began to methodically strip and clean both weapons.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Dressed in jeans, a dark t-shirt, and a dark jacket, Jim stealthily walked down the stairs to Blair's room. He glanced at his watch which read 3:15 and nodded. He had enough time.

Quietly, Jim opened Blair's door. He entered the room and knelt by Blair's bed, automatically scanning the younger man. Satisfied that his partner was deeply asleep, he put an envelope on the nightstand. Once again, he acknowledged that if he lived, he would be facing one pissed off partner and Guide.

He resisted the urge to brush the curls away from Blair's forehead. Instead he softly whispered, "If it's at all within my power, I'll be back. And you can yell at me to your heart's content."

With a final look at his sleeping partner, Jim lithely rose to his feet and walked away.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Okay, okay! I know why the panther's mad at me! I yelled at him! But why are you snarling?" Hands on hips, Blair glared down at the wolf who agitatedly paced in front of him. Then he glanced around. "Wait a minute. This isn't my dreamscape! It's Prospect Avenue."

The wolf sarcastically glared at him.

Slowly Blair turned around. "That's the loft. And…" His eyes narrowed as he peered through the darkness. "…that's Jim. Where's he going?" He glanced up at the full moon. "It's got to be the middle of the night!"

He watched as Jim walked past him and got into the truck. Seconds later, the truck turned the corner and disappeared form sight.

Blair glanced down at the wolf. "This isn't good, is it?"

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

" **JIM!** "

Blair sat up in his bed, screaming his partner's name. He got out of the bed, telling himself that he'd hear Jim pounding down the stairs any second.

Silence.

" **JIM!** "

Blair ran upstairs and turned on the bedside lamp. He found Jim's bed empty, only slightly rumpled as though the older man had only laid down for a nap.

Blair turned around to see the wolf pacing at the bottom of the stairs. He pointed at the agitated animal. "You wait for me. I'll be dressed in sixty seconds!" He ran back to his room, and pulled on his clothes. At the last second, he saw the envelope on his night table. "Make it ninety!" he yelled as he ripped open the envelope.

' _Blair. I couldn't take the chance. Jim.'_

Blair read the other folded note. "Stubborn-assed Sentinel!" he furiously yelled. "I swear I'm gonna kick your ass halfway to Peru!" Grabbing his cell phone, he began dialing as he ran towards the front door. "Simon! It's Blair! You're not gonna believe this!"

He let Simon bluster as he ran towards his car and got in. "He's gone to meet Hickock! Northern Lights Mall. West Parking Lot. 4am. No, I don't know how much of a head start Jim's got on me. Yeah, I know how long it takes to get over there! Why do you think I'm gonna be speeding and running red lights?" Putting the car into gear, he began following the wolf running ahead of him. Closing the cell phone, he tossed it onto the seat next to him. "Find me a short cut," he told the wolf.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

' _Brothers and sisters, what are we fightin' for?_

 _It's not for the fame or the glory anymore_

 _I hear the mothers cryin'_

 _Too many children dyin'_

 _How many tears have to fall to bring this to an end?'_

Jim slowly brought his truck to a stop and killed the engine. He saw the lone man standing under one of the parking lot lights and sighed. Slowly, he got out of the truck and closed the door.

"Glad you came."

"With such a blatant invitation, how could I refuse?" Jim called back as he walked forward. "Why me, Hickock?"

Hickock chuckled. "You know who I am? Good! It's about time people knew."

"Is that what this is all about? You want your fifteen minutes of fame?" Jim stopped twenty feet away.

"James J. Ellison. Decorated Army Ranger. Decorated police detective. Hero." Hickock shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be known for what I'm good at?"

"What's that? Killing cops?"

Hickock snorted. "Any two-bit crackhead can do that. No, what I do is more…primal, I guess you'd say." He waved his arms in the darkness. "Just you and me. One-on-one. Loser dies, and the winner walks away with another notch in his belt."

Jim's jaw dropped. "You murdered innocent people so you could set up some twisted version of High Noon?"

Hickock widely smiled. "What's the military term? Collateral damage?"

Jim stiffened. "Billy Hickock. You're under arrest for the murders of Christy Osborne and Greg Adams. And for questioning in the murders of…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Hickock smirked. "We both know how this is gonna go down. Wanna go on the count of three?"

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Blair's spirit animal granted his request for a short cut. In less than fifteen minutes, Blair was driving into the North parking lot of the Northern Lights Mall. Quickly rounding the corner of the mall, he saw two men standing under a parking lot light. "Oh, God."

Gunning the Volvo's engine, he sped towards the two men.

Even over the racing engine of his car, Blair heard a shot ring out. " **JIM!** " he screamed when one of the men fell. Seconds later, he braked the car, relieved to see Jim kneeling next to the fallen figure.

Startled, Jim glanced up, then ran towards the car.

"Get out!" he demanded.

"What?" Blair barely had time to turn the engine off before Jim was pulling him from the car.

"I didn't get a shot off," Jim explained as he took a firm hold of Blair's arm. He tried to block Blair's body with his own as he ran them towards the cover of the truck. "Somebody on the roof of the mall got him."

"What?!" Blair carefully peeked over the side of the truck. "Who could **that** be?"

Jim reached inside his jacket pocket. "Beats me," he wearily said. He started to dial, then turned his head. "Sirens?"

"Hey, you may have been dumb enough to come out here without backup, but I had a better teacher!" Blair angrily pointed out. He irritably swatted Jim on the arm. "And don't think we're not going to have a long… **very** long talk about this."

Jim sighed and called dispatch to warn the approaching units about an unknown shooter.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Jim sipped the hot coffee and watched from the back of his truck as the sun rose over the eastern horizon.

"Did you think you'd live to see it?" Blair quietly asked.

"Thought I would," Jim quietly nodded.

Blair studied his best friend for several minutes. "I don't even know what to say, Jim. You can't keep doing this lone wolf schtick. Not with me."

Jim drank the last his coffee, then stared into the empty cup. "Remember the camping trip we went on while Michael worked on the lawsuits?"

"Sure," Blair nodded.

"Remember the promise we made? Friends forever?"

"The most important promise I ever made," Blair quietly affirmed. "It's not something I'd ever forget."

Jim crumpled the empty cup and tossed it over his shoulder into the bed of the truck. "I keep my promises, Chief. No matter what."

"But…"

"Every time I lose somebody, a piece of me is chipped off," Jim brusquely explained. "God forbid I lose Simon, Stevie, or Naomi or one of the guys. That would be bad enough. I know one day I'll lose Dad and Sally, but that's the nature of life. I know I could live with those pieces chipped off of me. But losing you, Blair, would chip my heart out." Jim raised his head and stared at the early morning sky. "Another red sunrise."

Blair glanced over his shoulder. "Jim…"

Jim held up his hand to stop Blair's words. "I don't want to discuss it."

"Well, you have a few things to discuss with **me** , Detective."

Jim quickly rose to his feet and faced Simon. "Yes, sir."

"My office. Ten a.m. Sharp. Understood?" Simon growled.

"Yes, sir."

"Was anything found on the roof of the mall?" Blair quickly asked.

"A high powered rifle with a night vision sniper scope. One round fired." Simon grunted. "And this." He held out a clear evidence envelope.

"Not another note," Blair groaned. "What does this one say."

Jim focused on the envelope. "It says _'It's Over'_."

Blair looked from Jim to Simon. "What's over? Who shot Hickock?"

Jim shrugged and walked away. "Guess I can tell Dad he's out of protective custody and can call Naomi now."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

It was late afternoon when Jim and Blair returned to the loft. Both men were mentally and physically exhausted. And Jim knew Blair wanted to have a serious conversation with him. _'Wonder if I can persuade him to let it ride until tomorrow? I'm just so tired.'_ He sighed as he unlocked the door and entered the loft.

"Hey, what's this?"

Standing just inside the door, Jim turned around to see Blair picking up an envelope that had been pushed under their door. He groaned and turned away. "Don't care."

"Ummm…maybe you should," Blair hesitantly said as he shut the door. "It's addressed to **Captain** James Ellison."

Slowly Jim turned around. With another sigh, he hung his jacket on the hook next to the door and secured his weapons.

Silently, Blair grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator and walked to the couch in the living room. "Come on."

"Chief, I can't take both a serious conversation **and** whatever's in the envelope in one night," Jim protested even as he followed.

"So we'll see what's in this first." Blair studied his partner even as he patted the couch cushion next to him. "Our conversation can wait until the weekend. Maybe we'll go camping."

Jim nodded and sat. After a few seconds, he took the envelope. "The answering machine's flashing."

"Those messages later. This one first," Blair decided.

"Somehow I don't think I'm gonna like this," Jim grumbled as he opened the sealed envelope. Opening the folded papers, he held them out so Blair could read them as well.

' _Greetings, Captain Ellison. You know me as Father Sergei Markov. But you once knew me as Igoravich Goragoff.'_

"Who?" Blair frowned. Then he saw Jim's fingers tighten around the papers.

' _You knew me even better as Yuri.'_

"He's dead!" Blair yelled.

"The body was never recovered, Sandburg," Jim coldly reminded him.

"But…but…."

"Father Sergei's alleged injuries," Jim grimly recalled. "Those could be consistent with the injuries he would have received in that fall at the dam."

' _Do not blame Mikhaila. She had no knowledge of my true identity. She is guilty only of trying to help a victim of the KGB's Gulag._

 _As you may have surmised by now, Father Sergei died of his injuries sustained in the Gulag soon after his release. So when a man from America searched for the priest he'd known in his childhood, it was a simple matter to assume Father Sergei's identity and come to Cascade. Why, you ask? First, I must explain that after my unfortunate fall during out last encounter, I was rescued by an angel.'_

"An angel?"

Jim snorted. "A fallen one, no doubt."

"No, Father Ser…Yur…he talked a lot about angels," Blair recalled. "Remember when he sat with Naomi at the hospital? He said an angel had told him that she would recover."

Jim gave Blair a disgusted look. "And you believe him?"

' _I was severely injured in the fall, and it took quite a bit of time for me to heal as much as I did. I will confess that I am far more mobile than Father Sergei. Much more mobile._

 _My angel not only helped me to heal but gave me the opportunity for redemption._

 _I can imagine your expression, Captain Ellison. The raise of the eyebrow. The clenching of the jaw. Believe it or not as you wish. It is of no concern to me. It is enough that I have been given a second chance. It is enough that my angel uses me.'_

"He's certifiable," Jim shook his head.

"Jim, you're not nuts if you think angels speak to you," Blair pointed out.

' _No one was more surprised than I when my angel told me I must return to Cascade. I was concerned that you or your bright partner would recognize me. Especially since we both know that his second press conference was the lie.'_

"Oh, fuck!" Blair yelped.

' _However, we both know that people see what they want to see. People saw the clothing of a priest and immediately believed what he said. People want to see heroes, Captain Ellison. If they see none, they manufacture them. Heroism is mistaken for simple survival._

 _Even you, with your abilities, saw only a tortured priest who had miraculously survived and was struggling to rejoin society. As for your abilities, at first I envied you for them. Then my angel explained that I was much more suited to acting in the darkness while you are required to act within the light._

 _I would be most uncomfortable in the light.'_

"Light? Darkness? Is he talking reality or metamorphically?" Blair mused.

"I told you, he's certifiable," Jim roughly answered.

' _I was not sure why I had been brought to Cascade. At first, I thought it was to protect Ms. Sandburg during that unfortunate incident. When my angel told me to safeguard her that night, I wondered why. But Dr. Sandburg is also part of your light, Captain Ellison. This makes his mother important as well._

 _As you may have guessed at this point, she was targeted to die that night with your father to be framed for her death. However, the assassination attempt at the parking garage was foiled when the security guards were alerted. Was it ever determined how many car alarms were set off at one time or who placed the 911 call?_

 _The attempt at the hospital was a clumsy one, born of desperation and poor planning. It took little effort to end his life.'_

"He saved Mom?"

"So he says."

Blair shook his head in confusion.

' _You must be asking yourself why I saved the lovely Ms. Sandburg. Tell me, Captain Ellison. If your father had been accused of murdering Dr. Sandburg's mother, would the two of you have been able to work together? Then or now?_

 _I was again surprised when my angel told me that I must remain in Cascade. But I obey her as I have never obeyed another. And I have seen the evil that approaches. Have you? Has Dr. Sandburg? I wondered if that was why I was to remain._

 _I admit that I found it extremely amusing to consider the possibility that you and I would fight side by side after all these years. For as evil as you consider me, there is a far worse evil._

 _Then this man, Hickock, arrived. He was beneath my contempt. In the old days, I would have smiled at his actions then removed him simply because he was a nuisance. But I am a different man now.'_

Jim snorted in derision.

' _He was a nuisance just like those Federal agents. By the way, did you understand the warning I gave you that day? Most likely not.'_

"That comment he made about being hunted," Jim recalled.

Blair excitedly nodded. "Remember, you said you thought he was trying to tell you something!"

"Yeah, well, if he wanted to do that he could have opened his mouth and told me what was going on or phoned in an anonymous tip," Jim pointed out.

' _It was a matter of time before he challenged you, Captain Ellison. And you are not a man to avoid challenges. I admit I wondered if he would confront you in your home when he left his challenge. But do not worry. Your home was within my sights that night. He would not have walked two steps beyond the front door.'_

Both men immediately turned to stare out the balcony windows.

"With a high powered rifle and sniper scope, he could have been in any one of those high rises," Jim mused.

"High powered rifle? Sniper scope? Oh my God, Jim…"

' _But he did not enter. When he left, I quietly approached and read the note he had left. I wonder how I was able to do that? Did you not feel a threat approaching? You must do better than that if you are to survive.'_

"Son of a …"

"Easy, Jim." Blair gently squeezed his friend's arm.

' _It was a simple matter for me to position myself on the roof before Hickock even arrived. In my old world, he would never have survived two days. But neither will you if you continue to be so stupid, my friend. Arriving alone? I searched in vain for sight of police officers. I could not understand why your SWAT team was not on the roof with me. All I could see was Dr. Sandburg racing to your aid._

 _So I killed Hickock and ended his threat. It wasn't even a difficult shot. If they haven't done so by now, your very competent scientists will soon discover the bullet which killed the nuisance came from a 7.62 Dragunov sniper rifle. My favorite weapon.'_

Blair clutched Jim's arm in a death grip.

' _So now I leave Cascade. My mission here is completed. But do not think the threat has been eliminated, Captain Ellison. There are much worse things in life than a former foe._

 _I do not think we will ever meet again. My angel has not told me where I will go or what I will do. But the hunter became the protector for a while. It was…interesting. But if we do meet again, I do not believe it will be as enemies._

 _Yuri'_

"I wouldn't count on that, Yuri," Jim angrily muttered. "You've got a lot of murders to answer for." He thrust the papers at Blair and rubbed his face. "I can't deal with all this right now, Sandburg. I'm tired and going to bed."

"But…"

"No!" Jim suddenly stood. "Do you understand? Not now!"

"Okay." Blair nodded. He watched as Jim strode towards the steps. "Do you want anything to eat?"

Jim paused then turned around. "I'm sorry, Blair. I know I'm being an unreasonable bastard right now. But I feel stretched so thin, and I'm vibrating like a violin string. Much more, and I'm gonna snap."

Blair nodded. "Let me pull the messages now before you get to bed." He got to his feet and walked towards the answering machine. "Looks like there's only one."

Jim hesitated then walked to where his friend stood. He gave him a quick hug. "Thanks," he murmured. Before Blair could answer, he turned and went upstairs.

Blair swallowed, then took a deep breath. He pressed the button on the answering machine.

' _Jim. Blair. This is Micki. Father Sergei is gone. He left a note that you would explain. Please call me. I'm worried about him.'_

" **Damnit, Yuri!"**

Blair's eyes widened when Jim roared. "What do I tell her, Jim?" He waited in silence, then walked to the foot of the stairs. "Jim?"

"Tell her whatever you think is best, Chief," Jim wearily answered. "I trust your judgment."

Blair hear the bedsprings lightly creak. "I'll be out on the balcony. Use the sleeping mask and white noise generator so you can get to sleep quickly." He hesitated, then added. "I'll be here, Jim. If you need anything."

"I know, Blair," Jim gently answered. "Thanks."

Blair took the cordless phone and opened the balcony doors. Stepping onto the balcony, he glanced up at Jim's bedroom, then firmly closed the balcony door behind him. As he dialed Micki's number, he frowned at the reddened sunset.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The dark-skinned man breathed heavily in anger. "That no-good stupid egotistic pissant!" he roared. "Everything was set. All he had to do was stick to the plan! The imbecile!"

Furious, the man picked up a nearby lamp and threw it.

He ignored the sound of breaking glass as he roared in fury.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **ONE MONTH LATER**

"Sandburg! What are you doing here? Come on in." Simon opened the door wide to allow Blair to step inside his home.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I? With Daryl?" Blair asked even as he entered.

"He's with Joan at her parents' for the week," Simon explained as he closed the door. "It's their fiftieth wedding anniversary."

"How cool for them," Blair grinned. "You weren't invited?"

Simon snorted. "I sent a present with Daryl." He led the way through the house to the den.

"Whoa! When did you get this?" Blair stopped in surprise.

"Nice, huh?" Simon proudly smiled at the large television screen on his wall. "The old one finally quit. I wasn't surprised since I'd bought it before Daryl was born. When I went to get a new one, he steered me towards this."

"Uh…you **will** be hosting the Super Bowl party here, won't you?" Blair hinted.

Simon grinned. "Sit down, Sandburg. You want a beer?"

"No, thanks." Blair sat down on one of the chairs.

"What's wrong?" Simon gently asked.

"Jim. He's…I don't know what he is." Agitatedly, Blair got to his feet and began to pace. "Ever since that shoot-out at the Savings and Loan, he's been…resigned. Sort of no matter what we do, something worse comes along, you know?"

Simon slowly nodded. "His work hasn't suffered. Has he been…zoning?"

Blair inwardly chuckled. Even after all this time, Simon was still uncomfortable with Jim's Sentinel abilities. "No. It's his attitude. Oh, he'll laugh and joke; but it's all on the surface. We've talked, especially about that stunt he pulled with Hickock, but…it's this resigned attitude that's making me crazy."

Simon sighed. "Sandburg, it could be something as simple as burnout. Let's face it. Finding out that two innocent people were killed just to get your attention has got to play with a man's mind. It would with me. And it would with you."

Blair nodded.

"Do you think he needs to see a shrink?" Simon asked. "We have a new one that Jim hasn't argued with yet."

"He'd go if you ordered it or if I pushed," Blair surprisingly answered. "But I don't think it would do much good."

"Do I need to pull him off the streets?" Simon bluntly asked.

Blair had given that question a great deal of thought before he'd come to see Simon. "No. As you said, his work hasn't suffered. If you take him off the streets now, it'll just reinforce whatever negative ideas are floating around in his head."

"Then why are you here?" Simon curiously asked. "I'm assuming Jim doesn't know about this little visit."

"He's with Steven buying a gift for Sally's birthday." Blair shrugged. "As for being here, I guess I just needed a sounding board. And you know Jim better than anybody else." 

"Except you," Simon pointed out with a grin.

"Well, yeah," Blair admitted with a grin of his own.

Simon waved towards the couch. "Sit down, Sandburg. Take a load off. Watch my new television."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

' _They say he's always alone, he rides a horse with no name_

 _His only friend was the devil by his side but it caused him so much pain_

 _If his guns could talk, oh, the stories they would tell_

 _Of all the men who tried and lost_

 _All the ones he sent to hell.'_

The sleek airplane gracefully touched down on the hard-packed earthen runway. It bounced once then rolled to a stop. Seconds later, the door opened and a stepped ramp was lowered.

A man, dressed in camouflage fatigues, stepped out and squinted in the bright sunlight. Shouldering a heavy pack and rifle, he briskly walked down the ramp with the barest hint of a limp.

Behind him, the ramp was pulled back up into the plane. Barely a minute later, the plane had risen into the air and was speeding away.

As the man walked away from the runway, a group of people emerged from the nearby trees. They were a mixture of ethnic groups, from a ruddy-haired European to a few swarthy-skinned Latinos to several men and women with the facial features of South American tribes.

They stopped barely six feet from the protection of the trees as one woman continued walking forwards. Her long brown hair was braided down her back, and she walked with the grace of a natural athlete. She eventually stopped and allowed the man from the airplane to complete the journey to her.

"My angel." Yuri respectfully bowed his head.

"Welcome, Yuri. Your injuries have healed?" Di courteously asked.

"I have been told they are as healed as they ever will be," Yuri assured her with a smile.

Di turned around and led Yuri to the others. When they reached the group, she raised her voice. "This is Yuri. He has joined us."

The others had complete faith in their leader. But they were no fools. Each of them studied Yuri closely. He would be trusted to a certain degree until he had proven himself to them.

Di waited until the group had studied Yuri for several moments. "We have work to do. Now, we hunt!"

Yuri broadly smiled as he followed the others into the trees.

' _They are outlaws, renegades, rebels on the run_

 _They pay the price every day they live at the wrong end of a gun_

 _Move around from town to town, they can't stay in any place too long_

 _Outlaws, renegades…rebels on the run.'_

(Lyrics from O.R.R. by Gary Rossington, Johnny VanZant, Hughie Thomasson, & Rickey Medlocke. Found on Lynyrd Skynyrd's cd, TWENTY.)


End file.
